


Bored Games

by Nico (Vilakins)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Humour, Multi, Season/Series 01, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilakins/pseuds/Nico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <em>Liberator</em> crew are bored and looking for something to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bored Games

  


"I'm bored," Vila said.

Avon glared. "As are we all."

"Read a book, Vila," Cally suggested.

"I've read till my eyes are square. Galactic Monopoly, anyone?"

"No!" everyone said in unison.

"That week-long tournament was more than enough," Blake said mildly.

"Just to have Orac win." Jenna decided that if she never played again, it would be too soon. She hoped it would take them a long time to find where she had hidden the game.

"One-day cricket?" Vila suggested hopefully.

_"No!"_ they all chorused.

Blake's hand strayed to his forehead where he had sustained a hair-line fracture during one of Vila's fast-bowling overs, Gan looked sheepish about the bat he had broken when he'd let it go during a mighty sweep (narrowly missing Avon at silly mid-on and leaving a dent in the cargo bay wall), Jenna was outraged that Avon had not only caught her out but stumped her to boot, Cally had never been so bored or puzzled in her life (what _was_ it with humans and balls?) and Avon was still annoyed with Vila for laughing at his googly.

"Oh, come on," Vila begged. "I don't know what to _do_."

"Go and play in an air-lock, Vila," Avon said savagely.

Vila looked so much like a petulant child that Jenna smiled, reminded of her little brother.

Sensing weakness, Vila pounced. "Jenna?"

He was so like Kris, pestering her to play with him, big eager eyes and all. Perhaps she could deal with him the same way. "Only if you help me recalibrate the navigation system—"

"All right!"

"—_and_ if you're very, very good—"

"Oh, I am. Always."

"—then I'll play a game with you. One I choose."

"Oh? What?"

Preferably nothing she had played in the last month. What was that silly game Kris had liked? "Tiddlywinks." She smiled evilly. She bet Vila didn't have that.

Vila's face fell, then he brightened. "I've got Ludo. That's pretty much the same thing. In fact it's Latin for 'I play anything you like." He ran out excitedly to get it.

_Damn_, thought Jenna. But what the hell, it was something to do.

***

  
Jenna yawned and leaned forward over the board. Vila took careful aim and pressed one counter against the edge of another, flicking it unerringly into Jenna's cleavage. A brief look of satisfaction crossed his face.

"Vila!" Jenna leapt up.

"Oops, sorry, my mistake. I'll have it out in a sec." Vila approached her, the picture of innocence.

"You will _not_!" Jenna pushed him away.

"You won't feel a thing with my delicate touch."

"_You_ will if you try anything." Jenna slammed the board shut. "Game over, Vila."

Vila pulled a face and started packing up.

"I need you, Vila," Avon said, coming in.

Vila sighed resignedly and his shoulders slumped.

"In my cabin now. Bring your tools."

"Oh, no."

"Hop to it, Vila," Blake said reprovingly. "You wanted something to do."

Avon smiled dazzlingly. "Thank you for your support, Blake," he said in a voice like dark honey. "Come along, Vila." Avon grabbed him by the elbow and hurried him out.

Jenna stared after them , then turned to look at Cally. "You don't suppose those two..."

"Of course not," Cally said firmly. "I pick up strong emotions and feelings from Vila. I would _know_." She smiled a little.

Jenna, who had considered a dalliance with him when she had first met him in the holding cells—he was sweet and funny and really rather cute—was very glad she had chosen Blake. Best to make sure though. "Vila _is_ the only one you get anything from?"

"Yes." Cally looked surprised. "Just Vila. Perhaps the lack of planned breeding among Delta humans allows for more genetic variance," she said thoughtfully. "Why?"

"Just checking."

Jenna went to sit by Blake, who was at the far end of the couch chewing his nails. She tangled her hand in his hair and tugged it gently. "Want to play Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

***

  
"Don't tell me," Vila said mournfully. "Not again."

A rather deflated-looking Blake lay on Avon's bed, looking up at the ceiling with a faintly surprised and resentful look.

It was a life-sized doll which Avon had purchased from Space City when they'd dropped Bek off back there. The first time Vila had been asked to fix it, he had assumed that it was a custom job to Avon's specifications, as the face was obviously from Blake's wanted poster. However it appeared that there was a demand for ready-made Blakes, and Vila did not care to know why.

"Chewed the valve again, haven't you?" he said, pulling on his vinyl gloves; condoms for the hands, he called them.

"Just shut up and get on with it, Vila."

Vila sighed, reluctantly approached the flaccid Blake, and examined the valve with distaste. He supposed it was a logical place to put it, and at least it was accessible. It might have been inside, somewhere that might need an, um, probe. He wondered how much Avon would pay him this time not to tell the real Blake, and the thought cheered him.

"I can't fix it," he said. "I'll have to take it away and put a new one in."

"Then do so."

"Not like that," Vila said, alarmed. "What if someone sees me with it?"

"Then let the air out."

Vila screwed up his face.

"Squeamish, are you?"

"You know me."

"The social mores of the Delta grades never cease to amaze me." Avon launched himself onto the bed, landing on top of the Blake doll, which emitted an extremely rude noise through its damaged valve.

_"Avon!"_

Avon gave Vila a wicked look, and began to roll from side to side. The noise rose to a crescendo. Vila began to giggle, than to laugh helplessly, and finally even Avon was smiling when he got up. They exchanged a rare look of open affection.

"There you are, Vila. Nicely flattened."

"Thanks." Vila rolled Blake up, beginning with the curly head. "My kitchen duties for a week?"

"No. You need the exercise." Avon tossed him a _Liberator_ ruby.

***

  
Gan sat stolidly on the flight couch, wishing Cally would leave. He wanted to watch the All-Federation Boxing on Zen's big screen, but she disapproved. Listening to her comments about barbarism took all the fun out of it. He opened a bag of chicken tandoori flavoured potato crisps and stuffed several into his mouth and began to crunch them up. He hoped the noise would drive Cally away.

 

Cally glared at the back of Gan's head and put on a pair of earphones to listen to some soothing Betafarlian throat-singing. She knew he wanted to watch something violent, and she was not going to let him give way to his savage human nature. Besides, as Vila had once told her, annoying people _was_ oddly satisfying.

She did not think she would ever understand humans. Gan was basically a kind man, yet he also enjoyed watching people with leather covers on their hands attempt to give each other brain injuries. Even Blake, an idealist and fellow rebel, would shout at the vidscreen in excitement at the spectacle of large muddy males mauling each other while pretending to be in pursuit of an oval ball. Avon was unmoved by such things, but then, Avon appeared to be unmoved by most things. Jenna liked to talk about the pleasures of forcing an animal to her will and making it carry her in pursuit of other animals, all slavering for the death of a small furry creature called a fox. Only Vila seemed as repelled by these things as she was, but he was appallingly proud of his skill at relieving other people of their property.

She sighed. Sometimes she felt very homesick.

***

  
With Blake rolled up under his arm, Vila knocked on Avon's door. There was no answer. Vila had no intention of taking Blake back to his cabin again. He was a professional thief, and didn't believe in having incriminating evidence in his possession any longer than necessary. He'd just leave him in Avon's.

The _Liberator_ locks were a doddle and Vila had it open in two seconds flat. He stood there with his mouth open..

Avon was on the bed, or more accurately, on Servalan. "Vila!" he gasped. "Piss off, you little bastard." There was an ominous _pop_. Both he and Servalan froze, then he cautiously raised himself. With a squeal, Servalan left the bed, propelled by escaping air. Vila ducked just in time as she smacked into the wall where his head had been, then slithered to the floor with a soft sigh.

Vila shut the door with alacrity and found his voice at last. "Shouldn't wear studs with one of those things."

"And you shouldn't be here. If you break into my cabin again, Vila, I shall put your lockpicks where you will have great difficulty extracting them."

"I knocked first," Vila said indignantly. He looked down at Servalan. She wore a white sequinned gown trimmed with feathers, and looked disconcertingly realistic with a typically smug smile on her face. "This another standard model?"

"Yes. Apparently it's in demand in Space Fleet."

Vila wondered what others they stocked, and began to feel a little anxious. "Um, you only have the two, right? No other, uh, members of the crew?"

"Like you, you mean?" Avon smiled wolfishly.

Vila paled.

"No, Vila. I pride myself on my taste. Just the two." Avon picked up Blake by his feet and shook him out flat on the bed. "I'll just check this for hull integrity. You might put a patch on Servalan in the meantime."

Vila looked at her thoughtfully. He had brought some supplies with him in case Blake needed more work. Keeping his eyes averted from the sight of Avon re-inflating him—the thought of what that process would be called made him snigger—he lifted her gown and began to look for the leak. It was easily found, near the waist, and fixed.

Avon paused. "You'd better blow it up to test your work."

Vila gave him a doubtful look.

Avon's lips twitched. "The valve is on the right nipple."

"Ah!" Vila brightened.

Avon returned to his work, and Vila set to with a will. He was almost finished when the thought of what they must look like struck him and he snorted. "Lucky no-one can see us."

"Indeed."

Avon opened a closet and stood Blake up in it. Vila put the now taut Servalan in front of him, and mischievously entwined their arms in an embrace before he left.

***

  
There was a knock on the door.

Avon looked up from his book-pad. "Go away, you fool. I've seen quite enough of you for one day."

There was a pause. "Very well. I'll see you tomorrow." Blake said huffily.

Avon sighed and got up to open the door. Blake stood there, looking slightly disarrayed. Avon looked curiously at his lace-up shirt, which gaped somewhat, revealing his chest.

Blake flushed slightly and pulled the laces tighter. "I've been exercising," he said shortly. "May I come in?"

Avon stood aside. "What do you want?"

"Just a chat." Blake sat down. "It's a way to pass the time, isn't it?"

Avon sat on the bed opposite him. "I'm sure Jenna can accommodate you," he said coldly.

"Jenna's asleep and Cally and Gan are hardly good conversationalists. Of course I could always look for Vila.. I'm sure he'd oblige."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to subject you to that." Avon said. "Do you have a topic in mind? Something that does not concern the cause, or your delusions of significance?"

Blake shook his head, half exasperated and half amused. "Ah, Avon—" he started, then paused, cocking his head to listen. "What's that?"

There was a rubbery noise and a creak as the closet door opened slightly_. Damn. The idiot can't have closed it properly._ Avon leaped up and started across the room, but it was too late. The door opened and Servalan fell out and landed on her back, Blake on top of her. The impact caused them to bounce several times, lending a spurious and suggestive animation.

_"Avon!" _Blake jumped up, appalled. He put his hands on his hips. "Is this some sort of a joke?"

"Very probably." Vila had doubtless intended it for Avon's private amusement; after all he was hardly likely to want to deprive himself of a regular source of income. "For what it's worth, they were not intended as a matched pair."

Blake stood, looking thoughtfully down at the dolls, which were now quiescent. "I see the, uh, one on top has had some use." He leaned closer to peer at the bite marks and patches which, though skilfully applied, were of a slightly different colour.

Avon closed his eyes and looked away.

"I don't suppose..." Blake hesitated, sounding unusually shy.

Avon turned back to him.

"...you'd fancy a game of Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham, would you?"

Avon smiled. "Well, now."

***

  
Cally was bored. Betafarlian throat-singing lost its charms when punctuated by the random crunches of Gan eating his way through several bags of crisps. The reappearance of Vila was a welcome distraction. She watched him as he wandered aimlessly around the flight deck, trailing his hand disconsolately over each battle station.

Since she had left Auron, Cally had not even considered sex. It was unthinkable with people who could neither receive feelings nor transmit their own. Humans could only get words from her, a cold, shallow and deceptive medium. Vila however...Vila was another matter. Cally had picked up his feelings more than once, and he often sensed danger. She wondered just how much he was capable of. He was gentle and non-violent (except on the neutron blasters, which Cally approved of because war was different) and looked quite warm and cuddly, and she had been lonely for a very long time. Experimentally, she sent him a wordless Auron invitation.

Vila gasped and turned to look at her wide-eyed.

Cally smiled and repeated it, and to her amazement and delight, detected a response from him, faint but definite. She held out her hand, and Vila, enraptured, took it.

"Gan," Cally said out loud. "You have the con."

 

Gan twisted round in his seat and watched them leave. Alone at last. A little privacy to do just what he liked. He grinned with sheer happiness.

"Zen, put on the All-Federation Boxing, mate."

"Confirmed."

Gan slid down in his seat, loosened the front of his pants, and opened a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. He took out the little blue salt sachet, opened it, and poured it into his navel. He dipped a crisp in the salt, popped it into his mouth, chewed it with relish, then washed it down with a swig of lager. He let fly with a enormous belch. Ah, yes. This was the life.

The end

  



End file.
